


The Dance with Death Affair

by xisney



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 11:32:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1467931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xisney/pseuds/xisney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin try to stop THRUSH’s attempt at dropping nuclear bombs across America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dance with Death Affair

**Author's Note:**

> There's some sexually explicit art with at the end of this post!

The THRUSH officer’s fist landed squarely on Napoleon’s jaw. He flinched and swung back, trying to spot the familiar blond head in his peripheral vision. “Illya,” he said. “I’m becoming a little pressed on my end.”

Napoleon Solo tried to block the doorway, but over the THRUSH officer’s shoulder, he could see more armed agents rushing towards him. He delivered a punch to the officer’s gut before landing a hearty karate chop on where his neck and his shoulder met, watching as the officer limply dropped to the ground. He swung the door shut and blocked it with his body.

His Russian partner stood over a series of computer monitors, buttons, and keyboards. Red and green lights flashed off and on, and he watched Illya’s long fingers flicking switches as his blue eyes scrolled across the various screens. Napoleon pressed his weight against the door while THRUSH agents threw themselves against it.

Loud sirens began to wail, and Napoleon gritted his teeth as the door pounded against him. “Illya, can we speed things up a bit, please?”

“Forgive me for not wanting to accidentally drop a series of nuclear bombs across America,” Illya said. His steady tone almost relaxed Napoleon, but the UNCLE agent still felt sweat creeping down the back of his neck.

Napoleon twisted away from the door handle just as he heard a gunshot. The handle flew off the door, and he dove away from it just breaths before bullets blasted through. Scrambling across the floor, he tackled his partner to the ground as bullets ravaged the machine. For a minute he thought he felt his and Illya’s hearts pounding in the same, fast rhythm.

But Illya slid away from his grasp, and as the Russian agent stood, he said, “I am not certain I can stop them anymore.”

Napoleon stood up, but before he could ask what Illya meant, the THRUSH agents burst through the door. With their guns raised, the agents suddenly hesitated as if someone paused their movements. Napoleon stood watching them, braced to charge at one of them, but they stared at the smoke rising from the machine. The sirens’ wailing swallowed all sound in the room. Illya stood over the computers, still trying to flick switches and flinching away as sparks flew from the machines.

The THRUSH agents exchanged glances before evacuating the room. Napoleon exhaled and looked back to Illya. “Why are they running?”

“Because one of the nuclear bombs will drop in our area,” Illya said. “They are likely running for the bomb shelter.”

Napoleon paused, his mouth slightly ajar. He rubbed his chin and then said, “So, why are we not running for shelter?”

“I still think I can stop the bombs from dropping,” Illya said.

“How much time do we have?” Napoleon asked.

Illya squinted at the computer monitor, and Napoleon could see the numbers flashing in front of it between thick bursts of static. “Fifteen minutes,” Illya said. “Well, a little less now. Contact Mr. Waverly and tell him to retreat to safety in the event we cannot succeed.”

Napoleon pulled out his communicator and enabled it. He said, “Open Channel D, please.” He continued, “I need to speak to Mr. Waverly, immediately.”

He heard the man’s voice on the other line: “What is your progress, Mr. Solo?”

“The machine controlling the bombs has been injured,” Napoleon said. “Currently the bombs are en route to their varying destinations. We know the co-ordinates and one is in New York. I suggest you and the others evacuate to the shelter. You have about fourteen minutes until the bombs begin to drop.”

He heard Mr. Waverly sigh. “Read me the other co-ordinates Mr. Solo.”

“Sir, I would feel more comfortable if I was reading them to you after you were in the shelter.”

“Minutes will save lives here, Mr. Solo. Read them to me.”

Illya handed Napoleon the paper without even giving him a glance, and Napoleon began to mechanically and quickly read the co-ordinates to Alexander Waverly. He listened to the sound of Illya flicking switches and the pops coming from the machine. The sirens continued to wail, and he found himself raising his voice as he talked to Mr. Waverly. He tried not to let his anxiety build. It wasn’t his first dance with death.

When Napoleon finished, Mr. Waverly said, “Thank you, Mr. Solo. We will be trying to prevent the bombs from being delivered to their destinations from this end, but not before evacuating everyone to a safe location. Our agents have found a stocked shelter for you two approximately four minutes from where you are. It’s in a suburban home that appears to be a front for a THRUSH agent’s identity, though no one is home nor are they in the shelter. If you and Mr. Kuryakin hurry, it should be yours.”

Napoleon looked to Illya and said, “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Waverly read off the instructions to find the home before replying, “Good luck, Mr. Solo.”

“You too, sir,” Napoleon said.

The communication ended and Napoleon put his communicator away. “You heard the man, Illya,” Napoleon said.

Illya’s voice stayed stiff as he replied, “We have to do everything we can to prevent these bombs from dropping.”

“You heard Mr. Waverly, Illya,” Napoleon repeated. “They’re trying to do what they can to stop the bombs from dropping. We’re to evacuate to a shelter.”

Illya turned his head to look at Napoleon with narrowed eyes. He repeated, “I am going to do everything I can to prevent these bombs from dropping.”

Napoleon sighed. “What do you intend to you?”

“I’m trying to reroute the co-ordinates,” Illya replied as he turned back to the screen. “I think I can set them to drop in the ocean.”

“We have eight minutes left, Illya,” Napoleon replied.

“That gives us four minutes to work,” his partner replied.

Napoleon frowned. He took a step closer to Illya and said, “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” Illya replied, “unless you know how to repair this blasted technology.”

“I do not,” he said.

Illya gave Napoleon a mischievous smile, and the smile almost gave Napoleon a feeling of normalcy. He had faced death with Illya before. They survived then and they could survive now. But he listened to the siren wail overhead and the pops coming from the computers. He watched the smoke continue to rise into the ceiling. Napoleon hoped these computers didn’t foreshadow their own fates.

He tried to keep his heart from pounding. He watched his partner carefully work on the computer, squinting at the fuzzy computer screens that often filled with static or went black. Napoleon watched the flickering screen that counted down their time left. He found himself aching to pace when the clock reached six minutes, but his communicator started to beep, giving him a much needed distraction.

“Yes?” Napoleon asked.

“Mr. Solo,” Mr. Waverly said. “We are secure, but all of our attempts of prevention have failed. Are you and Mr. Kuryakin in a secure location?”

“No, sir,” Napoleon replied. “Illya – Mr. Kuryakin is working to prevent it on our end.”

“Mr. Kuryakin,” Alexander Waverly said, his voice raised. “While I appreciate your efforts, your new mission is to relocate to your secure location. You will receive new orders once you and Mr. Solo have arrived there.”

“Yes sir,” Illya replied mechanically.

“Good luck,” Mr. Waverly said before disconnecting the communication.

Napoleon put his communicator away and placed his hand on Illya’s shoulder. “Illya, let’s go.”

“No,” Illya said, brushing Napoleon’s hand off of him. “You can go to the shelter, but I am staying here.”

“Illya,” Napoleon replied, “as much as I believe in your abilities as an agent, I believe this effort is suicide and we must get to a shelter.”

“If the world is going to end, Napoleon, I would rather die nobly trying to prevent it from ending.”

“He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day,” Napoleon said, watching the time creeping forward on the screen.

The Russian agent replied, “If I fail, there will not be another day. You and I could potentially spend the rest of eternity in that shelter together while the radiation and ash slowly kills everything on the planet. I will do everything in my power to prevent this because I will not be able to live with myself if I run away now.”

Napoleon slid in front of Illya, blocking the agent’s quick hands from the technology in front of him. “I will not be able to live without you, Illya. If you want to stay here and die because you believe UNCLE will not find a solution, that’s fine with me. But I am not sitting in that shelter alone. I am not going there without you.”

Illya’s blue eyes glazed over for a moment, and Napoleon’s hazel eyes stayed on his – no longer watching how much time they had left. If Illya wanted to stay, he would stay. If Illya wanted to make a run for it, he didn’t want to know how likely their survival was.

Illya slipped his hand into Napoleon’s. With a squeeze, he said, “Let’s go.”

The pair began to run, their hands disconnecting as they tried to increase their speed. Napoleon followed his partner out of the THRUSH building that was disguised as a suburban school, and when they reached the outdoors, the bomb sirens still wailed. The streets were free of any panicking civilians. Their empty surroundings were eerie enough without the constant drone of the sirens. “This way,” Napoleon said, grabbing Illya’s arm to start his partner into a run.

The pair ran into the street, away from the THRUSH building. As Napoleon watched the cookie-cutter homes crawl by them, he recalled what Illya said when they first arrived at the place. The Russian agent had said, “How appropriate that a station designed to launch nuclear missiles is planted in suburbia – the very place that was supposed to be safe from any attacks.”

It seemed so long ago to Napoleon. His limbs grew weary as he ran, and he could hear his heart pounding in his cheeks with the heat pressing against them. His eyes ran over the house numbers as he hoped that the THRUSH agent didn’t decide to reclaim the shelter. When Napoleon spotted the correct house, he grabbed Illya’s hand and pulled his partner to the door. His sweaty hand jiggled the door handle only to find it locked. For a moment, Napoleon looked to the sky, seeing the streaks of smoke drifting across it. His lungs burned. Illya kicked down the door and dragged Napoleon forward.

Part of him just wanted to lay down on the couch and catch his breath, but Napoleon’s partner already began to open doors on the first level, eager to find the entrance. “Here,” Illya said in a doorway under the stairs.

Napoleon followed, his legs suddenly feeling like jelly, and the pair ran down several flights of concrete stairs. He caught his breath as Illya cracked the lock code, and the heavy door to the shelter opened. Even though Napoleon stepped forward, Illya pulled him in and locked the door behind them.

Then the two agents took a moment to appreciate the simplicity of the shelter. A curtain separated the bedroom from the main living and kitchen area. There was another doorway and, when Illya opened it, the room contained a bathroom. The second doorway led to a storage room full of food, other supplies, a generator, and pipes that could be deciphered as some sort of plumbing system. Napoleon didn’t take the time to analyze it.

The senior agent pulled back the curtain and dropped onto the bed. He tried not to think of what happened above him. He smiled as he stared at the large bed with a flower-patterned comforter. He saw two chairs at the small table in the kitchen. “I suspect this shelter was for two.”

“It works in our favour,” Illya replied. He stepped out of the storage room, flashing a condom in his hand and a small smirk on his face.

Napoleon returned the smile, and when his partner turned his back to put the condom back, his smile faded. Exhaling, Napoleon said, “I hope they’re all right.”

He kicked off his shoes and pulled himself closer to the center of the bed. Illya sat on the bed and untied his shoes. Napoleon pulled out his communicator and enabled it. As he took off his suit jacket, he asked for Channel D to be opened and, through the static, he heard Mr. Waverly. “Are you two in your secure location?”

“Yes, sir,” both UNCLE agents replied.

“I will contact you in a few hours with your new orders. I need to keep all channels open as other agents report in,” Mr. Waverly said.

“Yes, sir,” Napoleon said.

The connection closed, and Napoleon put his communicator back into his jacket before tossing his jacket onto a chair. He saw Illya still sitting at the edge of the bed, his shoulders slack and his head hanging low. While he considered playfully rubbing Illya’s back with his foot, he thought the Russian agent may need a more serious companion. Napoleon sat up and slid next to him.

“Waverly has a plan,” Napoleon said, offering Illya a half-smile.

Illya nodded.

“You did everything you could,” Napoleon said.

Illya exhaled and rubbed his face. “The bombs are probably dropping right now, if they haven’t already begun their destruction.”

Napoleon rubbed Illya’s back. “But people are still surviving. You heard Waverly. And it’s very likely many civilians managed to retreat to safety. You heard how long the sirens were on for.”

“I can’t hear them now,” Illya said.

“It’s a relief.”

“It is a relief,” Illya agreed.

Illya exhaled and turned his head towards Napoleon. He loosely wrapped his arm around Napoleon’s shoulders and rested his forehead against his companion’s. “We will live to fight another day,” Napoleon murmured.

“What will be left to fight for?” the Russian agent asked.

“UNCLE,” Napoleon replied. “Alexander Waverly. Whatever is left of civilization. You of all people should know America is not the only country in the world.”

“It doesn’t matter where the bombs were dropped, Napoleon,” Illya replied. “They can still destroy the rest of the world.”

“Why would THRUSH want to destroy the rest of the world?” Napoleon asked, smiling at Illya.

Illya didn’t reply, and his blue eyes finally locked onto Napoleon’s hazel ones. Napoleon nuzzled his partner and continued rubbing his back. He knew Illya’s realism sometimes dropped into pessimism, but someone needed to keep his own optimism grounded, just as someone needed to keep Illya’s pessimism from dragging the Russian agent under.

“Forgive me,” Illya said, “but I want to make a request.”

With a smile, Napoleon asked, “What is it?”

“I don’t want to feel what I am feeling right now,” Illya said. “And if this shelter doesn’t hold, I want us to be together.”

“We are together,” Napoleon said.

He kissed Illya gently, but he found his partner’s return kiss aggressive and hungry. Illya pinned Napoleon against the bed as he kissed him deeper, tightly holding Napoleon’s wrists and then his hands. The senior agent twisted his legs in with Illya’s, parting the Russian’s lips with his tongue to explore the territory.

Before releasing Napoleon’s hands, Illya’s tongue flicked against his own. Kissing Napoleon’s neck, Illya’s quick fingers unbuttoned Napoleon’s shirt and brushed aside his tie. His soft lips brushed against the exposed skin, sending shivers through the senior agent. Napoleon rubbed his partner’s back and arched against Illya’s light touches.

Illya kissed Napoleon’s nipple, teasing it with his tongue. Napoleon’s pants grew increasingly constricting as Illya continued to drift his lips across his body. He pulled off Napoleon’s shirt while raising his head back to Napoleon’s to kiss him. The senior agent ground his hips against Illya’s, untucking the back of the Russian’s shirt to slide his hands down his pants.

As Napoleon squeezed Illya’s ass, he heard him let out a soft sigh. Illya rested his hands next to either side of Napoleon’s face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. A small mischievous smile sat on the Russian’s face, his blue eyes burrowing into Napoleon’s hazel ones. For a moment, Napoleon thought that their shelter may not hold against the bombs. And he decided if he was to die, he would not want to be anywhere else with anyone else even if the placement of his hands and his pulsing erection made his potential end with Illya a bit vulgar.

Napoleon raised his head to try to kiss Illya, but the Russian raised his head just a hair higher to dodge his partner’s lips. They two exchanged competitive grins and, squeezing the Russian’s ass, Napoleon rolled himself on top of Illya. He pulled his hands out of Illya’s pants to pin the Russian’s hands against the bed with his own as his kissed Illya again, breathing in his scent with a purr.

Returning Napoleon’s kisses with a hint of tongue, Illya ground his groin against Napoleon’s and drew a soft gasp from his partner’s lips. With a flip, the Russian returned his partner to his original position beneath him and sat on his stomach. Napoleon’s lips parted as Illya untied his tie. The Russian slid back on Napoleon’s body to grind his ass up against his cock. The tie sat loose around Illya’s collar, and Napoleon pulled it off of his partner, tossing it aside.

Illya continued rubbing up against Napoleon with his own erection prominent in the front of his black trousers. The senior agent slowly unbuttoned Illya’s shirt and let his fingers tease the fair-coloured flesh. He slid Illya’s shirt off of his shoulders and sat up to embrace him. He kissed Illya’s cheek before brushing his lips against his partner’s neck. Illya shivered against him while his fingers traced down the Russian’s back.

Illya pressed his weight against Napoleon to pin him back against the bed. He drew kisses out of Napoleon as he unbuttoned his trousers. Purring, Napoleon raised his hips to allow Illya to draw his pants and underwear down past his knees. He cupped Illya’s cheek with one hand and twisted his fingers through his blond hair with the other to kiss his partner deeper. Rubbing Napoleon’s chest, Illya teased his nipple between two fingers while the other hand crept down his chest.

Arching into Illya’s grip, Napoleon gasped against Illya’s mouth as the Russian’s light fingers brushed against his erection before taking it fully into his hand, rubbing the shaft with his palm while the tips of his fingers teased the head of Napoleon’s cock. Napoleon fumbled with Illya’s pants. Illya kissed where the senior agent’s neck and jaw met and moved his hand quicker against Napoleon’s erection.

Napoleon closed his eyes to concentrate on removing Illya’s pants and underwear in one clean swoop, and the feeling of Illya’s cock against his stomach rewarded him. He pressed his hands back on Illya’s ass and ground their hips against each other. The Russian’s hand guided their erections together, and, in time with Napoleon’s hips, jerked them off together. With a purr, Napoleon led Illya’s mouth back up to his own by his chin, and he kissed his partner gently.

The Russian increased their rhythm while kissing Napoleon deeper. Napoleon bucked his hips to match the new pace, placing one hand on the back of Illya’s head and squeezed the Russian’s ass with the other. He gasped against Illya’s mouth and was rewarded with a small smile. The senior agent began to spill against Illya’s fingertips, and he nuzzled his partner when his panting began to break apart their kisses.

Illya kept a firm gaze with Napoleon, and Napoleon refused his break it. Both agents’ bodies stayed pressed together as Illya urged them to go faster. Napoleon felt the Russian’s sweat when he rubbed his back or twisted his fingers through his hair, but his partner stayed stoic as if their pleasure was just another mission for him. Illya’s breath quickened against his lips, and Napoleon couldn’t supress his groan as he came between them.

He placed his hand on Illya’s erection to help his partner reach his peak. Napoleon kissed the Russian’s lips, his neck, his shoulder, and his lips again, all while rubbing Illya’s cock. Illya moved his hips against Napoleon’s, keeping friction between his erection, Napoleon’s hand, and their stomachs. The Russian agent gritted his teeth to conceal any noise, and Napoleon carefully watched his partner’s face to see any pleasure he couldn’t conceal.

Illya merely exhaled on climax, and Napoleon felt his partner’s warm seed spill against him. Rolling off of Napoleon, Illya repositioned himself next to him. Napoleon wiped his hand on the bed sheets as Illya wrapped his arm around Napoleon’s shoulders. Curling against Illya, Napoleon nuzzled into his partner’s neck and absently rubbed his chest.

“I suppose we’re going to live,” Napoleon said with a smile. He kissed Illya’s neck.

The Russian rubbed Napoleon’s shoulder and kissed his hair despite the pomade. “I suspect you are correct, Napoleon.”

Napoleon smiled and breathed his partner in. As much as he enjoyed rubbing it in his partner’s face when he was correct, he knew now was not the moment. This was the moment to enjoy the other’s presence, in silence if that’s what his partner preferred. He listened to Illya’s steady breaths and wondered what noises were occurring above them.

Screams. Explosions. Crippling silence.

He stopped wondering.

He watched his partner’s eyes burrow into the ceiling. He worried Illya’s thoughts went in the same direction as his, and he kissed Illya’s neck again.

“Talk to me,” Illya said. Napoleon’s mind went blank. He stammered as he tried to compile his thoughts into a conversation to distract, but Illya continued, “I’m certain you want to tell me about something boring. Did you buy a new suit?”

Napoleon propped his head up with his hand so he could see Illya clearly, and the Russian repositioned himself against Napoleon though he stayed on his back. As their feet curled together, Napoleon said with a smile, “I did, though I’m surprised someone with a taste like yours actually noticed.”

Illya played with the tie still hanging around Napoleon’s neck as he replied, “You have been puffed up like a peacock all day. And I know you didn’t visit a new lady nor did you have a victory in one of your missions, so it must have meant you purchased a new suit,”

“Well, I’m sure you noticed I looked really good in it,” Napoleon said. He grinned as he added, “Or I did until you peeled me out of it.”

Illya offered Napoleon a small smile, and the senior agent nuzzled him. Illya pressed his lips against Napoleon’s before dropping back on the bed. Illya’s smile faded. The two lingered in silence again and Napoleon realized that his new suit would be his only suit. He thought of his wardrobe in ashes. He thought of charred pages of Illya’s books floating through the air.

“We’re alive,” Illya said, “and others must be alive too.”

“I would certainly think so,” Napoleon said.

He wrapped Illya’s arm around him as he nuzzled back into his partner’s neck. Illya rested his head on top of Napoleon’s, absently drawing circles on the senior agent’s back with his finger.

Napoleon heard his communicator start to beep. He sat up and tried to spot his suit jacket on the chair. Illya stretched out on his side, propping his head up with his hand in a similar manner that Napoleon had just done. Pulling his suit jacket into his lap, Napoleon dug through the pockets for his communicator. “Ready to hear what we’re going to be doing with these lives of ours?” Napoleon asked.

Illya nodded.

Napoleon enabled the communicator to hear Mr. Waverly’s voice on the other end. “Should I assume you and Mr. Kuryakin are well-rested, Mr. Solo?”

The senior agent looked at his partner. Illya’s boyish looks couldn’t hide the bags growing beneath his eyes. “It is hard to rest under the circumstances, sir,” Napoleon replied.

“Well, I have a mission for you two, but you do not need to consider it time-sensitive,” Mr. Waverly said.

“I wonder if waiting will be more difficult than any mission, sir,” Napoleon said. “Tell us the mission.”

He could almost feel Mr. Waverly’s smile in his voice as he continued, “One of our intelligence agents was reviewing your current position. You understand that we were aware of several THRUSH shelters beforehand, and it was how we managed to discover the location of the launch site. Nonetheless, it appears your shelter is joined with THRUSH’s main shelter. I suppose they wanted to be able to reconnect with each other in the event of a launch.

“However, this likely means they also had plans for escape. UNCLE does have several measures to help us leave our temporary sanctuary, but we do want to wait until we know what’s in store for us once we do leave. In your current circumstances, we weren’t sure how we were going to retrieve you until the intelligence agent realized your way out.

“Your mission, if you do not desire to stay in your shelter until we are able to retrieve you, is to infiltrate the main THRUSH shelter and escape by whatever means are available to you. Once you are out of the States, you can flee to any of the other UNCLE branches. We are in communication with them, and we will tell them to keep an eye out for you two. We can then reconnect once you are both free, and we can discuss our next move against THRUSH.

“But please be aware that if you are caught, there are limited places you can hide and there is nowhere to flee. My recommendation is to infiltrate and blend in with the rest. You can also wait until they have vacated the shelter and try to repeat whatever measures they used to escape. Even if you just need a pick-up, THRUSH’s main shelter will be easier to contact than your current location since the main shelter likely already prepared for a similar measure.

“There is time for you and Mr. Kuryakin to catch your breath,” Mr. Waverly said. “Neither of you should fear that you will be stuck in that bunker forever.”

Napoleon looked to Illya. His partner’s blue eyes were bright despite his serious expression. “What do you think, Mr. Kuryakin?” Napoleon asked.

“I think we should at least scout out THRUSH’s shelter. And if there’s opportunity to escape immediately, then we escape immediately,” Illya replied.

“And I agree,” Napoleon replied. “Though we may take a few minutes to freshen up.”

Illya smiled at Napoleon, and the senior agent returned it. “Very good,” Alexander Waverly replied. “I will wait for you to contact me so we do not compromise your position. Good luck.”

“Thank you, sir,” both agents replied.

Napoleon disconnected and put away his communicator. “New mission,” he said.

“Sounds fun,” Illya replied.

**Author's Note:**

> _originally posted on xisney.net_
> 
>   
>  Art by Elee! You can find more of her work at her [Y!Gallery Account](http://yaoi.y-gallery.net/user/chocolateisforever/), [tumblr](http://eleedoesart.tumblr.com/), and [DeviantArt](http://chocolateisforever.deviantart.com/)!


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